


Get better

by Hepzheba



Series: Better [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Derek, Comeplay, Happy Ending, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Tattoos, stupid boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hepzheba/pseuds/Hepzheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, Derek has a mate that is not Stiles. Stiles just does whatever he can to make his own heartache go away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get better

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually written before Better this way and it was just supposed to be some smut, but I felt that I needed to explain Derek's behavior and I thought I could do that better in Better this way. If you want the angst from Better this way, you should probably head back, this isn't angsty at all.
> 
> If you hate seeing Stiles in romantic scenarios with people that isn't Derek then you should probably skip the first part. But if you do skip the first part, you might have a hard time understanding what's going on. You could just endure it. It's just a bit of kissing, nothing too dangerous and there is a happy ending (the tag says so!)
> 
> [The Lovely Sarah](http://inwantofabluebox.tumblr.com/) (yep, that's totally her real name) is the beta of this. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Werewolves do, apparently, mate for life. Not all of them, but some. And falling in love with one of these wolves is bound to break your heart.

Stiles finds out about this the hard way during his senior year of high school when he asks Derek to be his valentine. He doesn’t really _ask_ Derek to be his valentine – such sentimental nonsense is for people like Scott – but the result, if Derek had said yes, would be the same.

Derek doesn’t say yes, though. He doesn’t laugh nor mock, but he looks sad, as if really sorry for saying no to Stiles’ casual offer of going to the movies together.

“Do you know that some werewolves mate for life?” Derek tells him. Stiles shakes his head. He’s come across this on the internet, of course, but he has also come across facts about werewolves not mating for life. “Not everyone though.”

“Scott?” Stiles asks, and Derek shakes his head.

“Only born werewolves,” he explains, “both parts are marked.”

“The tattoo on your back?”

Derek nods in response.

“How…?” Stiles doesn’t know how to finish the question, but Derek seems to understand anyway.

“It just showed up when I was nineteen. It was itching like crazy for a few days,” Derek shrugs, and although Stiles would really like to know _everything_ about this mating for life business, he can’t really forget the fact that Derek declined his date offer.

“It wouldn’t be fair to lead you on,” Derek says. Stiles manages a laugh, even if it’s weak.

“It was just to the movies,” he says. “The others are busy with their dates, so I just thought… It’s no biggie.”

He knows Derek knows it’s a lie, but Derek call him out on it. He just looks apologetic, as if he would have accepted what Stiles has to offer if it wasn’t for his mate – a  mate that is somewhere in the world, probably unaware of Derek waiting for them.

~*~*~*~ 

Things should have been awkward after Stiles’ attempt to date Derek, but everything quickly returns to normal. Between crazy pixies, rogue omegas, _fucking_ mer-people (yes, they totally do exist!), and escaping death a couple more times, they don’t really have time for awkward.

Then there’s college, and Stiles goes to Berkeley with Allison. They share a small apartment just outside campus, and they make new friends and allies, but always return home to the pack. Stiles has some non-too serious romances with fellow students, both males and females, but nothing is taken further than second base. Stiles is in no hurry to lose his virginity.

Who is he trying to kid? Stiles would love to lose his virginity as soon as possible, but whenever he fools around, he can’t help but think that he shouldn’t just settle for anyone (his dad would be so proud of him!)

Then Stiles meets Adam. Adam is a werewolf and comes from a large pack in Texas. He has a funny accent, and he laughs loud and jokes around, and Stiles really, really likes him. Adam is good-looking – not Derek Hale, out of this world good-looking, but still – he has blond hair and blue eyes (even when he isn’t wolfed out), and it’s nice to have someone to talk to.

The weirdest thing about Adam is that he seems to feel the same way about Stiles that Stiles feels about him, and Stiles thinks he wouldn’t mind losing his virginity to Adam. Adam, though, is a big tease, and it takes them forever to even get to second base.

This night, though, Stiles is quite certain he will finally get to third base, and he couldn’t be happier. Adam kisses with passion, hot tongue pushing gently against Stiles’, and he makes Stiles dizzy with want.

Allison has been banned from the apartment, but she didn’t mind. She said it was good for Stiles to finally get over Derek – which reminds Stiles that he Stiles should definitely talk to Scott about the bro-code and what bros shouldn’t tell their girlfriends. Right now though, Stiles is too busy having the time of his life though to care about Scott, Allison, or even _Derek_.

Adam is kissing a wet trail down Stiles’ belly. His kisses are a bit too soft, too gentle for what Stiles really wants, but he guesses practice makes perfect. Adam is good at multi-tasking. He nips at Stiles’ belly as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down Stiles’ jeans. Things are definitely moving forward when Adam suddenly rockets back onto his haunches, as if shocked and stares down at Stiles’ newly revealed hip. He doesn’t look aroused or anything like he should be while looking at the sight of his half-naked boyfriend. He looks terrified.

“What’s that?” he asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes. He tries to drag Adam up to kiss him, but Adam stays put, just staring at the dark ink just inside of Stiles’ hipbone.

“It’s a tattoo,” Stiles articulates, “I have another one. I know you’ve seen that one.”

Superfluously, Stiles points to the inside of his left forearm where there’s a white rose and the name Meredith written on the banner underneath, to always remind Stiles of his mom. Nothing to help an erection deflate as the thought of your own dead mother.

“It’s not just a tattoo,” Adam snaps and gets up from the bed.

“What?” Stiles inquires and gets up too without bothering to zip up his pants.

“You’re marked,” Adam half-growls and starts pacing the room.

“It’s just a tattoo,” Stiles says again and pulls a hand through his hair that he’s grown out since high school.

“Don’t you listen to me?” Adam stops and stares at Stiles. “You’re marked. You belong to someone else.”

“What?” Stiles manages to get out.

Sure, he doesn’t remember when he got the tattoo, but he hadn’t remembered much of that night anyway. Waking up with a tattoo he didn’t remember was the least of his worries when his head was throbbing from some heavy drinking, and he had to find his way home from behind the dumpster where he’d slept.

“You have a mate,” Adam says. Stiles knows that he’s probably talking about all this mating-for-life werewolf thingy that’s been haunting Stiles’ thoughts since that Valentine’s Day (the one he and Derek do not talk about) but he pretends that it’s not.

“Like a British friend?” Stiles tries to lighten the mood. “Or the one on a boat? I don’t think I know anyone who sails. Scott used to have an inflatable boat when we were kids, does that count?”

Adam doesn’t even smile at that.

“Like a werewolf that’s prepared to spend their whole life with you,” he just says and rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck, Stiles, you’re in a pack, too. You have to know about mates.”

“Yeah, I do,” Stiles says dejectedly. “How do you even know this is that kind of mark?”

“I just do,” Adam answers evasively, and if there’s one thing Stiles hates about werewolves, it’s their way of not explaining how they know things.

“How?” Stiles insists. “How should I know you’re rejecting me because of _my mate_ instead of me not being hot enough? Besides, Derek said only born wolves have a mate. I’m not born wolf. I’m not even a werewolf.”

Adam sighs again, and looks really uncomfortable. Stiles thinks maybe he should back off, but he wants to know, he _needs_ to know.

“Only one of the mates needs to be born wolf. The other part can be – well, anything I guess.”

“A fish?” Stiles asks stupidly and Adam sighs and rolls his in that you’re-an-idiot-way that people often tend to use around Stiles.

“No, they have to be at least part human,” Adam tells him, “God, how has your pack even survived?”

Stiles shrugs.

“But how do you know this is a mate-mark? It looks like an ordinary tattoo to me.”

Adam takes a step towards him, reaches out his hand, and the moment his fingertips touch the tattoo on Stiles’ hip, a painful electric shock goes through Stiles’ whole body and he jerks away from Adam’s hand.

“Ow!” he cries out. “You did that?”

“Not intentionally,” Adam says, and he looks sad and defeated. “I shouldn’t touch you, that’s what that means. You belong to someone else.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” Stiles objects.

“That mark says otherwise,” Adam insists. “You belong to them and they belong to you.”

For once in his life, Stiles is at loss of words.

“How do I find this… _mate_?”

He hates the word, mostly because that’s what keeping him from Derek.

“They probably have the same mark,” Adam says, and Stiles’ eyes widen.

“Derek,” he says in realization.

“Yeah, he’s your Alpha, you should probably tell him about this. If your mate doesn’t want to leave their pack, you’ll probably have to leave yours. Werewolf triumphs human.”

“No. Derek’s my mate,” Stiles says. Adam’s eyes widen in fear.

“I touched an Alpha’s mate?” he moans in a small voice, and he looks kind of like Isaac did on his first full-moon when Derek went all alpha on him. “Oh, god, he’s going to kill me.”

“No one’s going to kill anyone,” Stiles says, “but we should probably keep this a secret, okay?”

Adam nods, and Stiles bites his lips, trying to come up with something to say to make Adam leave without really kicking him out. He really wants to see Derek now.

“See you around,” Adam says, and he sounds so small and absolutely nothing like the happy person Stiles has come to know and like.

“Adam,” he says and Adam turns around to look at him, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” Adam says. A small, sad smile tugs at his lips. “Me too.”

Stiles nods, and Adam leaves the apartment. Stiles takes a shower and changes clothes – he doesn’t want Derek to smell anyone else on him when they see each other – before he gets his car keys and leaves for Beacon Hills.

He has a mate to woo.

~*~*~*~ 

Derek has rebuilt the old Hale house. It’s a large, white house, and there’s nothing scary about it anymore. Derek is standing on the porch when Stiles arrives. He probably heard the jeep all the way from town.

”What are you doing here?” Derek frowns as Stiles gets out of the car. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m your mate,” Stiles says, and he expects Derek to jump him (that had seemed like a thing Derek would do in Stiles’ fantasies, at least) or at least look happy. Instead, Derek’s frown merely deepens.

“No, you’re not,” he says, “Stiles, stop it. You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. It’s true, I’m your mate. Look, I have a tattoo!”

Stiles pulls down his jeans a bit to show half of the triskelion on his hip. Derek stares, and he still doesn’t look remotely happy.

“God, Stiles, what have you done?” He looks sad and defeated, and nothing like Stiles imagined he would look like at the news that Stiles was his mate. Sure, Stiles isn’t exactly the top prize in the mate lottery, but still, he thought maybe Derek had grown at least a little bit fond of Stiles over the years of saving his life. Apparently not.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek says and again with the honest-to-god sadness. “I know how you feel about me, but… I’m not… you’re not my mate.”

If Stiles had thought the rejection on Valentine’s Day had hurt, it’s nothing compared to this – being rejected even though he has evidence that supports him to not be rejected.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Derek says and turns away from Stiles, walking back inside. “Go home.”

“No!” Stiles orders and Derek’s back stiffens. “You’re not… don’t you dare walk away!”

He runs up the stairs to stand beside Derek, his hand reaches out to touch Derek’s arm but then he changes his mind and lets it fall.

“It’s not just about a tattoo,” Derek says, his voice is low and he sounds pained.

“I know,” Stiles says.

“Then why did you do it?” Derek asks and turns to look at Stiles, his eyes are so sad and Stiles wants to take him into his arms and make the hurt go away like he has done to the others, like he did to Isaac when his first girlfriend broke up, but he can’t.

“I didn’t,” Stiles says and Derek huffs angrily.

“It’s about a bond, a connection,” he says, “You can’t fake that, Stiles.”

Stiles gets that Derek thinks this is just a regular tattoo, one that Stiles has had done to woo Derek. (Stiles can’t really blame him; he has been thinking the same thing himself until just a few hours ago. A drunk Stiles might actually have thought this was a good way to get Derek.)

“I’m not,” he claims, and Derek looks at him. It’s like Derek’s looking through him, and he sees everything Stiles isn’t saying, every feeling Stiles feels for him.

“But I would have to,” Derek states flatly, “and I can’t do that to you. Even though that’s what you seem to want. You’re not my mate.”

“I might love you, but dude, I’m not that desperate. For fuck’s sake, Derek! I’m not faking it, I swear!  Please...”

Stiles realizes that he is crying, but he can’t really care about being embarrassed about that right now.

“Go home, Stiles.”

Derek turns away from him and Stiles doesn’t know what it is that makes him reach out his hand and grab Derek’s arm, maybe it’s the knowledge that Derek is walking away from him.

“Just… touch me,” Stiles pleads, and somehow he knows that it will be okay if Derek just touches him. Derek frowns at him and Stiles worries his bottom lip.  “Touch it. The tattoo. If nothing happens…” You’ll know I’m not your mate, are the words Stiles isn’t saying, the words he doesn’t dare to say.

Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking to Stiles’ face, and Stiles nods encouragingly at him. He pulls up his shirt so that Derek can see the tattoo. Derek slowly, almost tenderly, extends his hand, and as his fingers graze the black ink, another electric shock goes through Stiles’ body, but this isn’t painful; it’s nothing like pain and all like pleasure. Stiles gasps and his eyes snap up to Derek’s face to meet Derek’s Alpha-red eyes. He is surprised to see that they are glistening with unshed tears.

Suddenly, Derek is hugging him closely, and after a moment of shock, Stiles relaxes and buries his head in Derek’s shoulder. Derek sighs loudly into Stiles’ neck. Stiles knows he’s being sniffed by the werewolf, but he doesn’t care, and he honestly finds it a bit hot. Derek says something against the side of his neck and his lips touch his skin. Then there’s definitely a bit of tongue. Stiles isn’t even aware of the moan he lets out, but then there’s teeth and maybe they should talk?

“Uhm, Derek?” he says and tries to move Derek’s head from his neck by pulling a bit at his (very soft) dark locks.

Instead of moving away, Derek just growls into his neck and pushes Stiles against the wall next to the door as his licks turns into nips. Stiles unconsciously leans his head backwards against the wood, and Derek hums appreciatively against his skin.

“Shouldn’t we like – _oh_ – talk?” Stiles tries, and Derek abandons Stiles’ neck to look at him.

His eyes are back to their normal hazel and green and he looks wrecked; Stiles can’t believe he put that look on Derek Hale’s face.

“You’re my mate,” Derek states, and he sounds awestruck. Then he’s claiming Stiles’ lips in a soft kiss. And yeah, okay, they don’t really need to talk.

Stiles winds his arms around Derek’s shoulders and pulls him closer as he opens his mouth to let Derek in. Derek, of course, is a great kisser. He kisses as if Stiles is water in a desert, like he can’t breathe without kissing Stiles (which is really confusing because his kisses leave Stiles breathless).

Derek pushes Stiles’ shirt up, and another shock of pleasure makes Stiles shiver and gasp as Derek presses his palm against the tattoo. Derek kisses down his chin and then turns his attention to Stiles’ neck.

“Mine,” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ skin, and Stiles can only agree wordlessly.

He moves his hand upwards between Derek’s shoulder-blades where his tattoo is, and why is Derek wearing a shirt? Derek always finds an opportunity to take off his shirt.

“Off,” Stiles grunts and pulls at Derek’s shirt. Apparently, Derek has managed to reduce Stiles to one word sentences. Stiles doesn’t mind at all.

Derek pulls off his own shirt, and Stiles gets his hands on Derek’s muscled back and reattaches his lips to Derek’s. His skin is so smooth underneath Stiles’ hands. He knows when he touches the triskelion from the slight humming pleasure in his palm and from the way Derek groans and pushes back against Stiles’ hand.

“God, that’s hot,” Stiles moans against Derek’s lips and kisses him hungrily, pressing down his hand against Derek’s back.

Suddenly, Derek rolls his hips against Stiles, and whoa, Stiles isn’t the only one that’s affected by this.

“Inside,” Derek breathes, “we should take this inside.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says and spreads his legs a bit when Derek pushes in between them, and yeah, that friction is very nice indeed. Derek’s hands pull at his shirt, and Stiles backs away from the wall to get it off. Skin-on-skin contact is very nice, too, especially when Derek pushes his warm, muscled chest against Stiles’ and mouths at his jawline. Derek is so close to him; it’s like he wants to be inside Stiles and Stiles wouldn’t oppose that idea. He wouldn’t oppose it one bit.

Derek caresses Stiles’ tattoo again and bites at his throat. Stiles moans and bucks against Derek, and god, he’s so hard. Stiles won’t even get to third base today because he could come in his pants just from this. Derek is panting against his neck, and his hands leave Stiles’ hips to grab at his ass. Derek kneads his ass which makes Stiles groan and his knees almost give out. Derek sucks onto the skin of Stiles’ throat and Stiles shudders almost violently. 

Derek’s hands dip a bit lower, just underneath his ass and then he’s being lifted up by Derek’s large hands securely underneath his thighs. Stiles quickly wraps his legs around Derek’s waist so he doesn’t fall down, not that he ever thinks Derek’s going to drop him. It should have been disconcerting that he’s being lifted against a wall, but it’s so hot and good as Derek pushes against him. The friction against his cock is so good, and it’s even better when he feels Derek’s equally hard cock against his own every now and then with their erratic movements.

“Inside,” Stiles mouths against Derek’s jawline, and he has a feeling they have already had this conversation. He’s not really sure. His brain is a bit addled at the moment.

“Yeah,” Derek grumbles, and he just walks inside with Stiles wrapped around him.

Derek presses Stiles up against random walls on their way to Derek’s bedroom, kissing and biting and thrusting against him. Stiles doesn’t mind one bit. Somehow, Derek manages to get Stiles’ jeans off without either of Stiles’ feet touching the ground. There might have been some ripping and claws involved, but Stiles is too gone to care.

Finally, _fucking_ finally, they reach Derek’s bedroom, and Derek almost gingerly lays Stiles down on the bed. Stiles scoots backwards until he’s lying with his head on the pillows, and he expects Derek to lower himself to the bed too, but Derek just stands there, looking at him. His eyes are dark and wide, and with more emotion than Derek has ever shown before. Stiles is almost afraid to interpret the look in those eyes. If Stiles was brave enough, he might be willing to interpret that look as love, but Stiles isn’t that brave.

He beckons Derek to come towards him, and Derek lowers himself onto his knees on the bed and crawls slowly up Stiles’ legs. The feeling of Derek’s muscled arms and jean-clad legs against Stiles’ naked thighs is amazing. Stiles can’t take his eyes off of him, and Derek smirks. He probably knows exactly how hot he looks.

Derek stops at Stiles’ left hip, the one without a tattoo, and bites lightly at the skin before switching sides and licking at the tattoo which makes Stiles arch off the bed in pleasure.

“Oh, god, Derek,” he moans and bucks against that mouth. Derek laps, kisses, and bites at Stiles’ mark. _God._ Stiles is so hard, and it feels _so damn good_.

Derek raises his head from Stiles’ hip and looks right into Stiles’ eyes.

“You okay?” he asks, and Stiles reaches down to pull at his hair until Derek moves upwards so Stiles can crash their lips together.

“I’m good” Stiles responds breathlessly after he reluctantly rips his mouth from Derek’s, “you?”

“I’m good,” Derek answers, “you’re so good.”

Derek moves back down again, but this time, he tugs at Stiles’ boxer-briefs and arches an eyebrow to ask Stiles if it’s okay. It totally is.

Derek pulls off the boxer-briefs and his fingers close around Stiles’ dick, pulling a low groan from Stiles. Derek jerks him slowly, as if testing what Stiles likes. Stiles likes it all. He likes seeing Derek between his legs. He likes Derek’s intense gaze onto his cock and his hand jerking him slowly, and he definitely likes Derek’s thumb as it flits over the head of his cock at every upward tug. He may be mumbling incoherent things, but he doesn’t care; Derek looks pretty content too, so Stiles doubts he cares either. Derek presses his left hand, the one that’s not on Stiles’ cock, against Stiles’ tattoo and the pleasure courses through his body again, though not as powerful as the first time Derek touched him.

“Uh,” Stiles groans and grabs mindlessly at the sheet with both of his hands, arching his back.

Derek then leans forward, and oh, _sweetmaryandjesus_ , his mouth is so close to Stiles’ dick!

Derek smirks, and Stiles thinks he might have said that bit out loud. Derek licks experimentally at the tip and then hums, as if pleased with the taste, before taking the tip into his mouth fully and sucking lightly.

“Oh, god, Derek,” Stiles moans and his hands go down on their own accord to pull hard at Derek’s hair. “Sorry.”

Derek shakes his head, and Stiles pulls again, experimentally. Derek hums his approval and takes Stiles’ cock deeper into his mouth. Stiles moans and arches into the hot, wet cavern that is Derek’s mouth, and _oh, my god, Derek Hale is sucking his cock!_

“God, Derek,” Stiles moans and holds Derek’s head more tightly to keep him in place as Stiles tries not to thrust into his mouth too hard.  Stiles may be mumbling incoherent praises about Derek’s mouth and body, but he’s too far gone to care.

“I’m close,” Stiles warns Derek, expecting Derek to back away, but Derek fits his hands under Stiles’ ass to pull him closer and takes him in deeper. Stiles pulls at Derek’s hair, maybe a bit too hard, before soothingly kneading the scalp, his hips arching up off the bed. Derek doesn’t seem to mind. He hums every now and then as his head bobs up and down.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” Stiles groans and Derek responds with a groan without letting go of his cock. The vibrations send a new wave of pleasure course through Stiles’ body, and Stiles honestly never thought it would feel this good to have someone’s mouth on your bits.

Derek kneads his ass cheeks. One of his hands slips deeper in under Stiles, finger just brushing against his hole, and Stiles is suddenly coming into Derek’s mouth with a guttural moan. He forces his eyes open to watch Derek’s mouth leave his dick as he milks Stiles through his orgasm. Pearly white come lands on Stiles’ stomach, and some drips down Derek’s chin. Derek’s lips are red from the abuse, and his hair is ruffled in a definitely sexy fashion.

“You okay?” Derek asks, as if it isn’t obvious from the blissed-out look on Stiles’ face.

“I’m perfect,” Stiles smiles lazily at him, and the answering smile makes his heart stutter.

Derek drags his palm over his chin to swab away the come there, and then he licks it off his hand, his eyes never leaving Stiles’. Stiles doesn’t think semen tastes that great, but Derek seem to like the taste of Stiles’ come just fine if his hums of approval are anything to go by. That is just a new kind of hot; Stiles’ cock may be ready for more sooner than Stiles originally thought.

When Derek deems his hand clean, he turns his gaze to the drying come on Stiles’ belly. He dips his fingers into it and drags them over Stiles’ skin towards the tattoo. Derek slowly follows the swirls of the triskelion with come-coated fingers, going back for more semen twice before he has drawn the whole triskelion in come. It seems like a strangely intimate gesture, even after the fact that Derek had Stiles’ cock in his mouth just minutes ago.

“Is this a werewolf thing?” Stiles asks, “or just a Derek thing?”

Derek shrugs, “does it bother you?”

Stiles grins and shakes his head.

“Come here,” Stiles beckons, but Derek declines as he eyes his handiwork with a slight frown.

“Wait,” he says, and then he leans down to lick the come-covered triskelion.

His tongue swirls over the black ink, and when it’s clean, he moves his head and cleans Stiles’ stomach with his mouth and tongue. Stiles lays his hands on Derek’s shoulder, caressing the soft skin, until Derek deems Stiles to be clean.

Stiles’ cock is half-hard once more, and when Derek moves up his body he feels Derek’s erection through his jeans. Why Derek is still in his jeans? Derek should always be naked, but he should be especially naked right now. Stiles says this, and Derek just smirks before kissing him open-mouthed and dirty. Derek leans on his left side, and his right hand finds its way up Stiles’ thigh and behind his balls.

“I’ve never,” Stiles breaks away from the kiss, “I haven’t had sex.”

”It’s okay,” Derek says and pulls his hand away from between Stiles’ legs to entangle in his hair instead and deepens the kiss once more. “You can fuck me.”

Stiles releases a shuddering breath. He has dreamt about this, about fucking Derek, but he doesn’t want it to be a sacrifice from Derek’s side. He wants Derek to enjoy it too.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Derek’s voice is rough and his breath hot against Stiles’ ear, and when did Derek become a telepath?

“You sure?” Stiles asks. Derek nods and pushes their foreheads together.

“I want you to fuck me, Stiles,” he repeats, “I want you to do everything you want to me. _Everything_.”

Stiles forgets to breathe for a moment, his erection once more full-blown.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he scolds shakily.

Derek frowns at him, his face so close to Stiles that is almost makes Stiles cross-eyed. Derek’s eyes are so opened and honest, and Stiles just wants to hug him.

“Why not?”

“Because I might come again,” Stiles laughs breathlessly, “and no, that’s not the point. The point is for me to come inside you. Inside your ass.”

Derek’s every bit as breathless as Stiles is, and Stiles is happy to see he isn’t the only one who’s affected by this. He kisses Derek and pulls him closer as his hands start to roam over Derek’s chest and down his abs. He makes a quick work on Derek’s fly, and Derek helps to pull them and his boxer-briefs off before Stiles pushes Derek onto his back and covers Derek’s body with his own. Their cocks slide against each other and that is an awesome feeling. Derek’s cock is slightly longer and thicker than Stiles’. It’s the most beautiful cock Stiles has ever seen. And the only hard cocks Stiles has seen has been in pornos so that is saying something about the beauty of Derek’s cock.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers into Derek’s ear before nipping at the lobe. Derek groans and rolls his hips mindlessly, trying to find some friction.

Stiles loves seeing this new Derek, this uncontrolled, hot creature only wanting what Stiles can give him for the moment. Stiles hasn’t really considered it before, but now he can definitely imagine tying Derek up and having him beg for release, though that’s for a different time entirely.

“Lube?” Stiles asks, and Derek scoots sideways, still on his back, to the bedside drawer and fishes out a bottle of lube. The fact that it’s unopened pleases Stiles immensely for some reason.

Derek rips off the seal easily and hands the bottle to Stiles, who squirts out a liberal amount onto his fingers. He shifts so that he’s sitting between Derek’s legs and reaches out his hand to touch Derek’s cock for the first time. It’s warm and heavy in his hand. It doesn’t feel that strange, it’s kind of like masturbating, except for the fact that Derek’s the one responding to the movements. He’s lying on his back panting heavily, a breathless moan escaping him at every upward stroke of Stiles’ hand. His eyes are dark and half-lidded as they flick between Stiles’ hand and face, as if he can’t decide which part to watch. Stiles understands him, he really does. He can’t decide if he should watch Derek’s cock or his face either.

Stiles could just sit there and jerk Derek off slowly until the other man comes, but there was some fucking that was about to be done and that Stiles really wants to do, too. He reaches for the lube beside Derek and pours out some more onto his already slick fingers. He switches hands, so his right hand is on Derek’s cock, as his left hand drops lower, behind Derek’s balls. He pushes one slick finger against Derek’s hole, and Derek groans and spreads his legs wider. Stiles has thought about doing this to someone else; he always saw it as a necessary evil to get to the really good part, but Derek’s reactions makes him rethink that. Derek grips the sheets with one hand, and the other hand comes up to rest against the side of Stiles’ neck with his thumb caressing Stiles’ pulse point. Stiles experimentally pushes his finger in deeper and watches as Derek groans and writhes on the bed, his eyes half-lidded and body covered with sweat. Stiles dares to insert a second finger, even though it’s probably too soon.

“Stiles,” Derek groans as he arches, and his eyes flash red, and _oh, god, did Stiles make Derek almost lose control_? Derek thrashes at every movement of Stiles’ fingers, and Stiles must be some kind of finger-fucking god by the looks of it.

Derek is muttering incoherent things, and Stiles can’t decide if he should watch Derek’s face where his eyes are half-closed and his lips are red from biting them and sucking Stiles’ cock earlier; his abs and pectorals that shine with sweat; his heavy cock that leaks pre-come onto his stomach; or Stiles’ own, slick fingers as they disappear into Derek’s hole. It’s a gorgeous picture. He tries to watch it all, his gaze roaming over all that is Derek.

Stiles inserts a third finger, and Derek clamps down on another moan. Stiles would never have guessed Derek to be vocal during sex; a bit growly, sure, but not like this. But god, Stiles likes this side of Derek.

“I’m ready,” Derek bites out even though he probably isn’t, but Stiles is so hard and so ready and Derek is a werewolf. He’ll heal.

Derek pulls him in for a bruising, sloppy kiss and then pushes Stiles up and turns around onto his hands and knees. He glares over his shoulder.

“One word about dogs and I’ll leave,” he threatens. Stiles has to bite his lips to keep his grin from spreading as he kneels behind Derek, dragging his cock against Derek’s hole slowly. Derek shudders and bows his head.

“Fuck, Stiles,” he groans, and Stiles sees his nails lengthen some.

“I intend to,” Stiles whispers against his back before slicking up his dick with lube.

He pushes the head of his cock against Derek’s hole. He thinks that he’s never going to fit, but then Derek pushes back which forces the head of Stiles’ his cock inside. Stiles lets out a groan and leans forward, his forehead against Derek’s back, between his shoulder blades. He rolls his hips slowly, experimentally, and, “oh, god, Derek, you’re so tight.”

“Fuck,” Derek replies.

He pushes in deeper, and Derek _whimpers_. Stiles stops immediately.

”No, don’t stop,” Derek whines and pushes back, and who is Stiles to refuse his mate?

“Mate,” he whispers out loud against Derek’s tattoo, and Derek shudders as Stiles’ lips touch the black swirl.

“Mate, yes,” Derek grunts, “yours. Mine.”

Okay, they’re back to one word sentences. That’s fine. Stiles pushes in all the way, and Derek groans and leans forward onto his elbows.

“Stiles,” he moans, “Yes, mate, Stiles, fuck, _oh_ , please,” and Stiles can’t keep it slow anymore, not when Derek’s voice is so broken and pleading. He grabs Derek’s hips and thrusts frantically, and loves the sounds Derek’s making; some of them are words, but mostly, it’s just whimpers and moans and cries of pleasure. And oh, dear lord, it feels so good. Stiles reaches his right hand around Derek to clasp it around Derek’s hard cock that is slick with pre-come and lube from earlier.

“God, Stiles,” Derek moans, “close. Harder. Fuck. Close. Oh!”

Stiles thrusts harder. He feels the pleasure build inside him, and it comes so quickly, too quickly for him to stop before it’s too late. He leans forward, over Derek, and mouths at the tattoo on Derek’s back as he comes violently. He feels Derek shudder and clamp down on his cock, and then Derek’s fucking _howling_ as his release coats Stiles’ fingers. Stiles finds himself shuddering violently, mouthing against Derek’s neck as he rides through his orgasm. When he comes down he kisses Derek’s neck, just below his hairline, and begins to move out and off of the other man. Before he’s pulled all the way out, Derek reaches back and clasps his hands into Stiles’ hair.

“Stay,” he says, his voice broken, “please.”

Stiles nods against Derek’s neck and Derek caress his scalp and then his cheek before he relaxes his muscles and lies down on his front. It’s all messy and wet, but Derek doesn’t seem to mind or care. Stiles lies on top of him, limbs tired and his softening dick still inside his mate.

His mate… Stiles knows there are things they should talk about, but now seems like a bad time. They can talk later, Stiles thinks, tomorrow or just later tonight.

Stiles sighs and kisses Derek’s cheek as he moves out of Derek to lie beside him on his back. Derek moves his head to look at Stiles, but otherwise he stays on his front. When their eyes meet, Stiles can see that Derek’s are full with concern.

“Please, don’t leave,” he says, and Stiles can’t help but smile.

“I won’t.”

Derek seems to relax as he moves closer to lay his head against Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles moves his arm so he has it around Derek’s shoulders. Stiles should have known that Derek was a closet cuddler. He smiles up into the ceiling as Derek sniffs at his throat and rests his hand on Stiles’ chest, over his heart.

Stiles knows they’ll feel gross later with dried sweat and come on them, but he doesn’t care right now. He just pulls Derek a bit closer, and they fall asleep like that. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Lovely Sarah suggested me to write the discussion Derek and Stiles will have but I don't know, I don't feel the inspiration for that. Do you have your own questions that hasn't yet been answered? Do you want to know what Scott thinks about this? Or do you not care for anything else in this 'verse? Let me know. And feel free to join me in my Sterek and Teen Wolf madness on [Tumblr.](http://hepzheba.tumblr.com/)


End file.
